he sat
it was a chill
spring morning
those damned birds
didn’t seem to mind
the squirrels
didn’t seem to mind
the cars
along the road
were indifferent at best
sending trails
of white exhaust
into the slowly
brightening
sky

he watched
with tired
angry eyes
a cough burning
in his chest
sore
from a fitful night
of never finding
comfort
in the too big bed
for one

a shadow
most likely a plane
he grimaced
always flying overhead
from the airport
just to the north
he didn’t look
the novelty
long since
worn off
now another
marvel
become
nuisance
become
something
to ignore

the shadow
falls over him again
sunday travel
heading out
for another week
of hotels
fake smiles
strangers
that are the only lifeline
except for video chat
with the kids
that become strangers
as the miles
add up
to a lump sum
of missed time
no money
can ever make up

riding
in the bellies
of mechanical dragons
to conquer the world
that has been conquered
millions of times before
like quixote
in a business suit
his lance
a spreadsheet
the windmills
another bored room
of ineffectual
daydreamers
lost
in the spell
of earning more
to return
to less

yet the damned birds
don’t care
the squirrels
don’t care
and he sits
on the bench
of a chill
spring morning
as the cars drive
with fluffy white
exhaust
under
an ever
brightening
sky

tired
without a thought
on it all